


Birth of an Industry

by Lymphadei



Series: Cockney Boys [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Come Sharing, Cunnilingus, Double Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, First Meetings, Gratuitous Smut, Het and Slash, Humor, John likes Sherlock, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn Star John, Porn Star Sherlock, Porn Video, Sherlock likes John, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, porn stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 13:22:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7686127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lymphadei/pseuds/Lymphadei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was not John’s first time working with Molly, doing the whole school girl role-play thing, but it was John’s first time doing so with Sherlock Holmes. The man was fabled to be the most demanding actor to work with in the porn industry, and John hadn’t banked on the possibility that he’d be catering to a diva. He’d heard about the mishap with Sally Donovan, a popular transgender pornstar that had a wit as sharp as the five-inch stilettos she was known for wearing during her scenes. The entire shoot had to be re-cast because Holmes refused to work with her after Sally’s “asymmetrical breasts” kept ruining the shots."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birth of an Industry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crickette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crickette/gifts).



> PLEASE READ: Hello everyone! This is just a note to notify you that a few minor changes have been made. I was informed that a bit in the first paragraph came off as transphobic as I used an outdated term (unfortunately one still being used in the porn industry to describe trans women and ignorantly used it without thinking that it could be hurtful to some). The last thing I want to do is offend or cause any pain, so please accept my apology if I did.

It was not John’s first time working with Molly, doing the whole school girl role-play thing, but it _ was _ John’s first time doing so with Sherlock Holmes. The man was fabled to be the most demanding actor to work with in the porn industry, and John hadn’t banked on the possibility that he’d be catering to a diva. He’d heard about the mishap with Sally Donovan, a popular transgender pornstar that had a wit as sharp as the five-inch stilettos she was known for wearing during her scenes. The entire shoot had to be re-cast because Holmes refused to work with her after Sally’s “asymmetrical breasts” kept ruining the shots.

However, it all made sense the moment Holmes flounced into the room, paying no mind to the film crew as wickedly long, pale fingers flew over the illuminated surface of his iPhone.

Molly, who was already down to a Britney Spears get-up, complete with the pigtails and garish eyeshadow, perked up as Holmes strode past without a word to either she or John.

John wasn’t completely surprised. Ten years in the industry and he’d learned to work with what he had. Holmes wasn’t the first complete tit John had the misfortune of working with. He was, however, the best-looking one so far.

His last shoot with Kitty Riley had been trying. Her lunch included asparagus and John could hardly keep himself from gagging as he went down on her. Not to mention, her dirty talk needed improvement. John hadn’t been sure if he was fucking Kitty or Voldemort half the time.

Holmes’ eyes were still shielded behind the reflective surface of his Chanel aviators, but John’s gaze was unwittingly drawn to the soft, full shape of Holmes’ mouth, the finely-crafted bow and plump, rosy petal of his upper and bottom lip. His cheeks were sculpted from ivory and his sharp, Grecian nose rounded off the aristocratic mien. Holmes could have been a proper actor with a face like that, but John was happy enough that they would be sharing a screen.  

When Holmes removed his shades, John’s stomach flopped like a fish on a pier. Holmes had stunning eyes that varied in hue and depth as they caught the artificial glow of the film lights. From where he sat, John could hardly label the colour of Holmes’ kaleidoscopic gaze, but all the same, it was enchanting.

On the black, leather sofa beside him, Molly’s body radiated heat and a quick peek from his periphery confirmed that she was glowing a warm shade of peach as she watched Holmes shuck off his Belstaff and hand it to one of the staff. He wore a tight, black silk shirt and trousers that hugged every curve of his arse and shapely thighs. John’s mouth flooded with saliva and he swallowed, certain that he would be outclassed in this particular production. Usually, he had no reason to be insecure, and he never looked at reviews for his videos, but John was sure all eyes would be on Holmes and Molly.

Holmes sauntered over after a short, clipped conversation with the director. John stood, heat pooling in his groin the moment that shrewd gaze fell upon him. Holmes’ eyes dipped down, mouth pulled into a semi-smirk that magnified his plump lips as he took a long, contemplative survey of John from the ashen strands of his hair to the worn bottom of his trainers.

“John Watson?” Holmes asked, by way of greeting. John nodded in affirmation and stretched out a hand, which was promptly engulfed in the man’s large, warm grasp.  “Sherlock Holmes.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” John replied, grinning smugly as Holmes’ eyes blazed another trail down his front, only to linger over the jumper hugging his torso. Pale, predatory eyes flicked back up to John’s with smouldering intent. To his horror, John could feel his cheeks heat up and Holmes’ stare was alarmingly steady, so he turned to introduce Molly.

“Uh, this is Molly Hooper,” he introduced, the words rising weakly from his throat.

Holmes finally slid his keen eyes over to the woman sitting on the sofa. She stood, fidgeting with her plaited pigtails as she waited for Holmes to extend a hand. When he did, she was eager to catch it, her palm limp and small in his. “Ah, Molly,” he said, pleasantly. “We’ve worked together before.”

John wasn’t surprised. Sherlock Holmes was a household name, nearly as well-known as Ron Jeremy, and Molly was the “It” girl for the time being. The shy, meek slutty routine hadn’t worn off yet, hence the —much clichéd—scene they were about to film.

“Yes,” Molly breathed, her starry-eyes unwavering. Holmes, to his credit, didn’t blink twice at her blatant adoration. He merely raised a brow and cut his obscene stare back to John.

Holmes’ lips parted, but the moment was thwarted as the director called for them to take their places. It was a simple scene. The premise was “after-school studying”, and of course, Molly would be the main focus, though it was bisexual in nature. Some touching was required between John and Holmes, but again, that wasn’t a complaint. John found that he quite enjoyed the cold, crude slant of Holmes’ eyes on his body from where he flanked Molly’s other side.

The set was bland and innocuous. It was a moderately sized lounge room, the walls and off-white neutral colour that didn’t draw attention. Besides the sofa, furniture was sparse to make more room for their activities, save a large, off-white sectional on the other side of the room near a wall of floor-to-ceiling bay windows. In front of the sofa was a coffee table scattered with blank papers and a few pencils. Molly’s prop, a backpack, lay slumped against the leg of the couch and out of the way.

Besides the introductory script, the director allowed them full creative license to do as they pleased.

The first shot would be the three of them on the sofa, Molly snug between them as they sat thigh-to-thigh.

After the unimaginative intro lines, Holmes and Molly began snogging, one of his large hands cupping the nape of her neck while the other pushed aside the gaping collar of her shirt and slid beneath the cup of her lacy, scarlet bra. John pressed his lips against her neck, the skin soft and pliant beneath his tongue, already dampening with sweat. His hands traversed down the line of her supple body, over the flat, bare plane of her stomach and between her splayed legs.

He pulled away from Molly’s neck as she turned to him, and leant forward to capture her lips. Beneath his fingers, her knickers were moist and warm. John massaged her over the cloth, ignoring the cameraman as he moved closer to get a view of John’s hands beneath Molly’s skirt.

Molly moaned into his mouth, rotating her hips up into his grasp. John matched her with a groan of his own as he pressed his tongue past her lips and let it tangle with hers.

He was forced to pull away when Molly shuddered, her shirt sliding down her shoulders, and John’s eyes flicked down to see Holmes’ long fingers pinching the pearly, pink tips of her nipples. From her other side, Holmes cupped her alabaster breast in his hand and flicked his tongue against her nipple, wrapping his mouth around with muted groan.

John slid off the couch and onto his knees between her trembling thighs. His hands trailed up until his fingers were hooked over the band of her tiny, tartan skirt. John glanced up as Molly tilted her hips up, allowing him to pull the skirt down and off her legs.

Holmes’ hand rubbed circles over Molly’s belly, head bent as his tongue laved her areola with teasing flicks before he sucked her nipple between his lips. But his eyes were on John, heavily hooded and burning as they locked gazes. John felt the stare down to his balls.

John looked away and gently urged Molly to recline against the back of the couch with a palm on her belly, until her arse perched on the edge.

He leant forward, inhaling against the humid fabric clinging to her wet pussy, and breathed in the floral fragrance of her perfume, the scent of her juices. A hand, too large and heavy to be Molly’s, slid into his hair, scratching along his scalp. When he peered up, Holmes pulled away from Molly, eyes dropping to John’s, lust-ridden and glittering as he slid off the couch and joined John on the floor   

Holmes pulled him closer by the hand still tangled in his hair and guided their lips together. Holmes’ lips were soft and tender, salty from Molly’s skin and his own natural sweetness that got John hard as a diamond. John licked into his mouth and sucked his tongue, enjoying the moan that dragged from Holmes’ throat, deep and rumbling. Holmes shuffled forward until the flat planes of their stomachs were pressed together as he dominated the embrace. John had no choice but to relent and push his hands up that silk-covered chest as Holmes trailed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses up his chin to the corner of his lips.

John pulled away first, earning a heated glare from Holmes, but Molly still needed to be tended to, and if he was correct about what was going to happen, Holmes would be content to continue.

Molly was touching herself, studying them beneath lazy lids as her hand moved beneath her knickers.

John rose to his knees, unable to resist the temptation of her glossy mouth and her wide, doe eyes. She melted into him as he fit his lips over hers, pressing her breasts against his chest. If he was less of a professional, John would have jumped at Holmes’ hands smoothing over his arse. Instead, he pressed back into it, feeling Holmes reposition himself behind him.

Holmes’ palm slid up the small of his back, warm enough to light a fire in the pit of John’s belly as they slowly meandered up his ribs, dragging his shirt along with it. Hot breaths on his neck made his heartbeat stutter and his hips hitch against the leather couch, until John was panting into Molly’s mouth. Holmes was a hard, rigid line against the crack of his arse, his cock eager and insistent even through John’s denims.  

John leant back so that Holmes could remove his shirt, then Holmes’ hands were at his waistband, playing with the button on his denims. Soft, damp lips left wet, lingering nips on John’s shoulder blades. John reached a hand back and buried it in Holmes’ curls, immersed in the sensation of a pointy nose tickling his neck and clever hands moving beneath his pants to fondle his cock.

His heart sped up as Holmes’ hips began to move against his arse, and though the camera was catching everything, John could almost believe they were alone. Except directly in front of him, Molly had lost her knickers and her gleaming pussy was spread open, two of her fingers pushed inside of her.

John reinstated some of his control as he slipped forward and lowered his lips to her cunt, the tip of his tongue nudging against her clit. Holmes came around, shirt unbuttoned to reveal a chest as fine and smooth as ivory, peaked nipples and the long pale column of a neck John couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into.

Holmes observed John for a moment more, hand returning to slip through the unruly strands of John’s hair as he guided the other man to lap up Molly’s nectar with long, pulling suckles. Holmes’ free hand tackled the zip of his own denims, dexterous as he pushed the slider down with ease and released his cock. The man’s cock was gorgeous. Long and thick, the uncut length of it flushed a dark, rosy color. Holmes bared himself with a soft, hissed breath, his cock slapping obscenely against his belly.  

John closed his eyes certain that he might come prematurely if he stared much longer.

Molly whimpered, high-pitched squeaks that made John’s cock ache with want. Warm breaths puffed at the corner of his mouth, and John cracked open his eyes from where his tongue was buried in Molly’s pussy, instantly mesmerized by what he saw. Holmes hovered over Molly’s clit, peering up at her as his tongue darted out to tease her swollen nub.

John pulled away to watch, regretting it the moment Holmes’ fingers abandoned their station in John’s hair. Instead, they sank knuckle-deep into the tight, slick confines of Molly’s opening.

John leant forward and their tongues danced around her clit, tangling hotly with one another. Holmes retracted his fingers as their tongues worked their way down to dip inside of her, undulating against each other. It was incredibly arousing, intoxicating, even, as they pleasured Molly and one another simultaneously, tongues playing cat and mouse. John’s gut clenched as Holmes sucked Molly’s clit and skimmed lightly with his teeth in a way that made her spine arch.

Holmes pulled away and John ducked down, sliding his tongue inside of her. Holmes’ gaze was on his, starving and covetous. They switched again, and Molly cried out as Holmes’ tongue wriggled over her nub. He sucked her lips into his mouth and moaned deeply at the taste of her.

John joined in, watching as Molly’s features pinched in pained ecstasy, and twined his tongue with Holmes’, delving inside of her. His groin tightened with every open-mouthed groan emitting from his partners’ throat as they fucked her pussy with their lips and tongues.

Holmes licked across John’s chin, no doubt tasting the piquancy of Molly’s juices, as John could on him. Then, that clever tongue was licking past his lips, sloppy and wet. John didn’t even care that the bottom half of their faces was covered with pussy juice. He was inflamed with want and having Holmes so obviously interested and dominating was making his chest pang with longing.

The sound that issued from John’s throat was nothing short of a plea. He refused to believe it could be a whimper, but whatever he intended it as, Holmes understood the subtext as he lowered a hand to stroke John’s cock.

John wouldn’t be surprised if the director was glaring at them from his chair. Molly hadn’t had her first orgasm, and though it was to be a bisexual scene, she was still the main focus. Holmes didn’t seem to mind.

Reluctantly, he withdrew and turned his attention back to Molly, Holmes following suit. The camera was right up beside them, catching their tongues as they danced around one another over Molly’s clit, and the teasing kisses they granted one another every so often. Holmes kept a constant vigilance, nipping John’s soaked mouth when Molly became more vocal above them. She was close, and John knew from past experience that her orgasms could be messy. He tipped his mouth open and flicked his tongue against her while Holmes rubbed his finger against her clit until she came, the strong bittersweet taste of her flooding his palate.

He turned to Holmes holding her juice in until their lips met, salty liquid spilling down to their chins as Holmes wrapped an arm around John’s waist and pulled him forward.

In John’s periphery, Molly was boneless and sated, save for the heaving of her chest, legs spread wide and pussy swollen, pink and glistening beneath the studio lights. Her eyes were open, though, watching Holmes push John’s trousers and pants down his hips. John reciprocated, shoving Holmes’ shirt off his arms and removing what remaining article of clothing was left until they were both stark naked and close enough for their cocks to touch.

The director called for a cut and a crew member brought Molly a bottle of water, which she drank down. John still hadn’t quite escaped Holmes’ wandering hand, and his partner seemed reluctant to break contact as they stood.

They moved to another part of the room, to the sectional, where there would be more room to fuck. The heat of Holmes’ hand on the small of his back was enough to ground John in the moment, though he felt as if he were on cloud nine. Holmes’ stare was heavy on his skin, causing it to prickle beneath the onslaught. Every part of him was attuned to his partner, his proximity, the tilt of his hips towards John when they stopped to take a few directions from the director, and the way those eyes seared a hot, lingering trail down his body. Holmes wanted to fuck him, and the sincerity of it was startling.

Most people John worked with did what they had to do, collected their cheques and went about their business. The sex was generic and unoriginal at best, and a number of the men John worked with often needed fluffers or Viagra to get hard. Over the years, John had attained some modicum of professionalism, and every case was purely for entertainment. He didn’t have sex with any of them and leave with a connection. But whatever was happening with Holmes was beyond any experience he’d had in the porn industry, and John would be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued.

The next scene began with Molly riding John’s cock, facing the camera. She was snug and warm around him, and Holmes was alternating between her pussy and John’s cock, slurping loudly from his position between John’s legs as he sucked and licked.  

The slap of Molly’s buttocks against his lap was noisy and sharp, John’s cock growing slicker with every upstroke as Holmes continued to lave the point of their joining with his saliva. It was messy, but John couldn’t bring himself to care as Holmes’ mouth descended and latched onto his balls. Then, Holmes’ hands were on his legs, urging his feet up on the ledge of the couch until he was spread wide and inviting. Molly never slowed her pace. In fact, the intense flush covering her cheeks as she peered down at Holmes’ curly head hinted at her motivation.

John didn’t have time to think any more on it, because something warm and slippery was burrowing beneath his balls and trailing between the cheeks of his arse, confident that he wouldn’t push away. Just past Molly’s thighs, he could see that shock of dark hair and pale hands holding his legs apart, massaging the back of his thighs.

John groaned, sliding down to give Holmes more room to work with. His hips stuttered as Molly simultaneously squeezed around him and Holmes’ tongue pressed flat against his arsehole, fluttering.

“Fuck,” he moaned, and Holmes pulled back to smirk at him, eyes heavily hooded as he replaced the loss with long, dexterous fingers.  

Molly slowed, and Holmes leant forward to trail his tongue from the base of John’s cock to Molly’s dripping hole, smacking his lips wetly against her slick folds.

Molly writhed in his lap, biting her lip to stifle a whimper as she rode John with short, quick thrusts.

“Mmm,” Holmes murmured, crooking his fingers in John’s arse as he latched onto one of Molly’s bouncing breasts.

John couldn’t contain the shudder that wracked his body as those fingers prodded his prostate skillfully. He ground his hips into it, head pressed back into the couch as Holmes’ palm massaged his bollocks.

God, the man was magic with his hands and a master at oral play. John prayed to God, Jesus, the Saints, or whoever was listening that it wasn’t the last time he worked with Holmes.

Molly’s movements grew erratic until she was fucking herself desperately on John’s cock as Holmes tongued her clit. Her ample chest heaved as she gasped out her pleasure, damp back plastered to the front of John’s chest as her orgasm rocked through her.

John pumped his hips in time with the rhythmic clenching of her cunt around him, but Holmes' hand clamped around the base of his cock kept him from coming.

Molly climbed off of his lap, giggling as she collapsed into the couch to watch them.

Though the musk of Molly’s juices lingered on his cock, Holmes didn’t hesitate to snuggle up between John’s legs and swallow him down until he touched the back of Holmes’ undulating throat.

“Fuck,” John hissed, eyes pinched shut as Holmes continued his attack on John’s prostate. He pistoned his cock into the warm cradle of Holmes’ mouth, already on the verge of an orgasm.

Abruptly, Holmes pulled off and retracted his fingers. From behind him, he produced a bottle of lube which he seamlessly applied to his cock before kneeling on the edge of the couch between John’s legs.

John stared up at him and reached out a hand to stroke Holmes’ lovely cock, already feeling an odd ownership of it. Holmes leant down and captured his lips in a wet, messy embrace as he aligned his cock to John’s arsehole.

The initial breach bordered on painful, but dulled to a sweet ache as Holmes rocked his hips experimentally. One large hand tugged beneath his knee and sat it over a broad shoulder until John was nearly bent in half. God, the man was a powerhouse.

John broke away from the kiss, angling his hips up to meet Holmes’ as the man set a brutal pace that had them both crying out. Holmes bottomed out on each thrust, right against his prostate.

Holmes bowed forward, holding the nape of John’s neck in a possessive palm as his hips slapped frantically against John’s arse.

Holmes’ grunts burst from his throat like breathy growls as John clenched down around his cock. Those piercing, enigmatic eyes held John captive as his partner’s free hand enveloped his cock with the same skillful possession he showed in every flicker of his tongue and twitch of his hips.

John moaned as one particular manoeuvre from Holmes made his mouth go dry. Holmes’ breathing was ragged and John knew he was close. John could feel an orgasm building from the tip of his toes, to the way his leg clamped around Holmes’ shoulder and his thighs began to quiver.

“Oh, fuck! Fuckfuckfuck,” John groaned hoarsely as Holmes pressed in especially hard just when that shudder reached his groin.

Holmes trembled over him, eyes welded shut as he froze. John rode his cock as warm pulses of semen flooded his passage.

“Agh!” Holmes gasped, blinking hard as he opened his eyes, the long, pale column of his throat bared.

Holmes’ ecstasy fueled his own, and John tumbled over into one of the most powerful orgasms he’d ever experienced in his life. His breath caught in his throat, toes curling as he slammed his eyes shut and let the waves of rapture roll over him. Holmes stroked him through it, leaving sloppy kisses down his jaw until he could hear again.

He heard panting and turned to see Molly slumped against the arm of the couch, thighs squeezed firmly together as she came down from yet another orgasm.

Holmes gently pulled out of him with a wet squelch that sent a shiver up John’s spine.

For finishing touches, the cameraman moved in to get a shot of Holmes as he scooped up the semen leaking out of John’s arse and brought his fingers up to John’s lips, biting his own as John reached his tongue out to lap the liquid up greedily.

Molly crawled over and helped him lick away the remnants.

“All right,” the director called. “That’s a wrap. Good job, guys.”

Holmes dropped his arm and grinned, alarmingly handsome in with his tousled curls and reddened lips. He collapsed on the sofa beside John and looked at him.

“I always did wonder what it would be like to fuck you,” Holmes said as they sat for a moment to recollect themselves. Molly blushed at the announcement from where she was wrapping herself in a robe on the opposite end of the sofa.

John’s face went warm as he realized Holmes was, in fact, talking to him. Oh!” He said, a bit flustered to be honest, as if they hadn’t just fucked in front of a camera. “I hope it was what you were expecting.”

Despite telling himself that it was only business, John couldn’t deny the fact that he had actually enjoyed working with Holmes. They hadn’t crossed paths in the industry before, though he’d seen Holmes at the award shows occasionally. Other than that, John mostly stayed in the realm of hetero films while Holmes did everything from straight sex to trans films, and sometimes ventured into bondage. Their careers just never aligned.

Holmes smirked in a way that made John’s blood pressure sky-rocket. The man was bloody charming, and he knew it.

Holmes bent to whisper in his ear, his breath warm and teasing over John’s skin. “You were marvelous. Perhaps we can discuss future collaborations over dinner, if you’re amenable.”

Oh, John was very,  _ very  _ amenable.

“Don’t see why not,” he replied, standing to accept a robe from a crew member.

Holmes stood as well, all long, lean lines and corded muscles. “Good, because my number is already in your pocket.” Then, he winked, swung his robe on in a flurry, and was out the door quicker than John could say ‘Farewell’.

Remembering that he was not alone, John glanced over to see Molly staring back with a sad, but fond quirk of her lips. “You’re lucky, you know?” She said. “I’ve never seen Sherlock show an interest in anyone, and this is not our first scene together.”

John wasn’t sure how to answer. Holmes hadn’t been anything like the rumours. Granted, the man probably  _ was _ a diva and standoffish, but all John felt was the warmth of Holmes’ eyes on his body and those bloody hands. And his smile. That wasn’t for the faint of heart.

Molly chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I’m sorry, John. Guess I’m a bit envious of you, but you’re a sweet man. I can see why he likes you.”

Molly walked over and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for a good time.”

She leant forward to place a kiss on his cheek and he smiled as she pulled away.

“Thanks, Molly.”

John watched her as she made a beeline for the exit, then reached down for his clothes. He patted his pockets and sure enough, the rectangular outline of a card pressed against the back pocket of his denims.

It was Holmes’ business card and a mobile number scribbled on the back of it, along with an address and a time.

John furrowed his brows, unable to remember Holmes writing anything, which must have meant that Holmes had already planned to give his number to John.

John smiled down at the card and tucked it away in his wallet. He scooped up the rest of his clothes and hastened to leave. Apparently, he had a date in three hours.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is always appreciated :D 
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](http://lymphadei.tumblr.com) for info on updates and future projects! Miss a little, miss a lot, just sayin'!


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